A War Between Worlds
by Kingification
Summary: Set after Season 4 when Blaine has moved to NY. Crossover of Glee and Steven Spielberg's adaption of H.G. Wells' The War of the Worlds, but probably won't include any characters from the book which was based in 1898 or the aforementioned film. Enjoy! Focus on Klaine, other couples may or may not be added later - with the exception of Finchel, in this canon they have broken up.
1. Prologue

_Throughout history, humanity has suffered many, many mass-exterminations – the bubonic plague, the respiratory plague, and the 'final solution' of the Nazi regime being only a few – and yet, much like the common germs and microorganisms that grace God's green earth, we have continued to multiply and thrive. We have created a world-wide link that brings everybody together, and named it the internet; we have developed cures to some of the worst illnesses and brought near-extinction to viral bacteria that have previously claimed hundreds-and-thousands of lives. Although we have developed such wonders locally, we are still yet to develop the technology to send men further into space – and thus, explore it. This proved to be the human races biggest disadvantage; across the cosmos, a species plotted, and waited, avoiding the watchful eye of the many advanced drones that we had sent to their native planet - Mars. They scrutinised, they planned, they grew – and soon they became resistant to every one of the man-made marvels that this narrator has previously described. These technological marvels – a godsend locally – ultimately proved to be humanities biggest downfall. For in the year two-thousand and thirteen, in the glorious summer of July, the species that had waited for so long, for thousands of years, stopped waiting. The sunshine was soon to be blotted out, and the darkness would begin._

This was the war of the worlds.

The room was silent and warm; a small amount of sunshine allowed itself entrance into the room through a slight gap in the eloquent, crimson-red curtains. This condo had been Kurt and Blaine's home for almost a year now, and they had definitely left their mark; designer furniture and household items littered the rooms like some frantic attempt to fill every living space, much like an artist attempts to fill any white spot on their canvas. But this was Kurt and Blaine's canvas, their favourite asset, so of course they were going to buy new rugs, new posters – framed, of course – a new widescreen 3-D smart television that Blaine insisted on buying, new bedsheets… almost everything had been changed over the first few months of living there.

Suddenly, the beautiful silence in the condo was interrupted by a loud, almost obnoxious bleeping that filled the bedroom. Blaine grumbled.

"Ugh… please, five more minutes…" with that, he snuggled back into Kurt's chest, who replied to this movement with a small, tired kiss on the forehead. "Come on Blaine," Kurt mumbled tiredly, stroking his boyfriends beautiful curls , "It's time to rise and shine." Kurt reached over to the bedside table and gently swipped his finger across his iPhone, disactivating the morning alarm. The digital time on the screen showed one-minute past seven o'clock – they still had at least another hour to get ready and leave.

"But I don't want to go to college today... I just want to spend the day with you, and watch movies, and eat popcorn, and snuggle, and fu-" Blaine blushed at what he was about to say, shaking him out of his slumbered state to being almost fully awake. All that Kurt did was giggle loudly and continue stroking his boyfriend's gorgeous hairline.

"Don't act like I don't wanna do that too, mister," Kurt insisted, still a slight bit tired. "But we really need to go to college today. We've already missed two days this month an-" Blaine quickly shut him up with a deep kiss on the lips, their saliva swapping between their tongues. Blaine pulled back after a long half a minute, looking passionately at his lover, deeply into his blue eyes – almost as if he was swimming in his pupils.

"Well, let's miss another one."

"You are such a bad influence on me, Blaine Anderson!" he insisted, before giggling loudly.

"Yeah, but you still love me."

Kurt smiled at Blaine, who returned with a grin that seemed to stretch from one ear to the other.

"I suppose, considering it's almost the end of this semester anyway, we could miss just one more day…" Kurt figured, leading Blaine to show him an even bigger smile than before, showing off his perfect ivory-white teeth.

"But we can't miss anymore! I'm pretty sure the dean is starting to get suspicious with our frequent bouts of sickness." Kurt spoke kind of sarcastically with his last words, suggesting to Blaine that they both knew it wasn't true. Blaine laughed – surprisingly high-pitch, considering his normally deep vocal range – they shared another deep, passionate stare that seemed to stretch on for hours. Heck, they wished that it would stretch on for hours.

"I love you, so much. Nothing in the world could separate us." Blaine insisted, still wearing a huge grin.

"I love you too, Blaine Anderson. Infact, I can't wait to be Kurt Anderson one day." A little blush appeared on Kurt's cheeks, his smile growing larger.

"Hey! Who said it's going to be Kurt and Blaine Anderson? I like the idea that your parents had when they got married."

"What, Kurt Hummel-Anderson?"

Blaine grinned back at his partner, "Or Kurt Anderson-Hummel, depending on what you prefer."

Kurt gave Blaine a little playful tap on the shoulder from his side of the bed.

"You're so goofy!" Kurt snorted, immediately embarrassed by the noise that had erupted from his mouth and nose – the look on his face apparently amused his boyfriend, as Blaine erupted into a loud laugh.

"And you're so beautiful." Blaine finished after a few seconds of laughter. Kurt's face erupted in a shade of red for the second time of their morning conversation.

"Come on," Kurt spoke softly, "If we're staying home today we may as well sleep for a little while longer."

"I thought you'd never ask," Blaine grinned to Kurt, "But let's snuggle for a bit first." With that, Kurt moved into the arms of Blaine, acting as the little spoon – as he so often did in the relationship. He felt the soft breathing of his boyfriend on the back of his neck, the heat sending waves of calmness through his body. They didn't speak. There was a silent conversation between them – they both understood what they meant to each other, and the silence of the room was too beautiful to break. After a few minutes of this bliss, Kurt fell asleep, Blaine's hands held firmly together around his waist.

If only they knew what was to come.


	2. Eve of the War

**Chapter One  
****Eve of the War**

"Rise and shine, boys!" spoke Carole's soothing, feminine voice as she knocked the door. Her quiet words were slightly interrupted by her loud bangs, meaning that only some of her speech could be perceived – however, the crashing sounds against the door did all the talking for her. Kurt and Blaine had to get up.

Kurt stirred slightly, bringing his head of the pillow, realising that he was in an awkward position, being trapped underneath Blaine's arms. He smiled at his boyfriend who was still silently sleeping away as if there had been no interrupting to their relaxing morning. Kurt watched Blaine for a while – he watched his chest come up, and then flatten again, moving as slowly as his nose twitched with each breath that he took. This perfect synchronicity in his boyfriends sleepy breathes always impressed Kurt – he could have sworn that even his sleeping wasn't so quiet, and didn't look like it had been so well prepared. But, then again, Blaine had a lot more rehearsal time with his sleeping schedule than Kurt, who was definitely more of a morning person than his boyfriend. Once Kurt was done ogling the natural wonder of Blaine's breathing pattern, he slowly crept his arm over to his shoulder and gave him a gentle poke; just enough for Blaine to wake slightly, but not enough to startle or hurt him. "Rise and shine, sleepy head…" Kurt spoke softly, almost mimicking the same tone as that of Carole – of course, without the chorus of loud bangs. He slowly stroked at his boyfriends hair as he woke, who gave him a wide smile in return of his gentle touch.

"Hey Kurt… what's the time?" Blaine still had his eyes shut, fighting against the sticky sleepy-dust that was forcing his lids closed. Kurt rolled over onto his shoulders and grabbed his iPhone from the bedside cabinet, reading the number on the screen.

"Nine o'clock," Kurt stated, "Don't rush yourself, we've got plenty of time for breakfast." Kurt then gave his still blinded boyfriend a subtle kiss on the lips, before rolling out of bed – just making it in time before Blaine could stop him. Fortunately for Kurt, however, Blaine had hardly the energy to him so he just rested his head back on the pillow, muttered a small grunt and seemed to fall right back to sleep. Kurt looked back and smiled, before grabbing a towel which was hung over his radiator and going to his en-suite bathroom to hop in the shower. He stripped himself of his Pyjamas, which to his horror, he discovered were slightly stained from last nights… session with Blaine. He gasped a bit at the white mark, suddenly blushing furiously. He chucked it in the corner of the bathroom, all the while telling himself that his dad and Carole were not allowed to see the garment that he had just dropped on the floor. He stepped underneath the shower, and turned a small knob that was built into the wall, until a small mark in the knob was parallel with an orange dot – this indicating that the water was hot, but not at such a temperature which would scald his precious, well cared for skin. He allowed the water to explode over his head, a powerful shower of hot droplets engulfing him in a mist of vapour and water. He let his fingers run through his hair, down his shoulders, relaxing his muscles which had suddenly tensed in shock at the realisation of the white stain on his PJ's. He closed his eyes - his mind, body and soul being cradled into a cocoon of blissful peace – the only noise being the sound of running, trickling water and the few sighs that he would emit from his lips. When he was finished with his morning exfoliation regime, he washed the foamy lather off his face under the stream emitting from the shower, stepped out and turned the knob until the stream stopped and left only a trickle of water rolling down into the plughole.

He pulled a towel from the rack that was next to his shower and quickly wrapped his lower body, letting the carefully woven fibres embrace his tight abdomen, curving slightly at his hips and butt. He stepped out of the bathroom, leaving small, damp footprints on the cream coloured carpet. He walked over to the dresser, noticing on the way that Blaine had begun to stir, and began to thoroughly dry his hair and body. This, all in full eyeshot of Blaine – he was no longer timid about his boyfriend seeing him naked, after all, why should he? He's seen him more than a few times in very provocative positions anyway. However, Blaine was always keen to give Kurt… 'compliments' on his body whenever he was drying off after his morning shower, and was sure that this morning was no exception.

"Have I ever told you that your ass looks great when it's dripping with water?" Right on schedule, Kurt thought, before erupting in a deep shade of red. He then smirked to himself and decided to do something completely out of character – he bent over, giving Blaine a great view of his 'assets'. When Kurt heard a slightly muffled moan, he grinned; even though he was turned away from his partner, he could imagine the look on his face. His jaw would be dropped, as it often was whenever he was in awe of Kurt's body, the colour of his face would now match Kurt's, and his eyes would have glazed over in a sort of hungry stare. I am such a tease, Kurt thought, before erecting himself back to a normal standing position – the groan emitted from Blaine's mouth suggesting quite a lot of displeasure.

"You are such a tease!" Blaine giggled a bit, his jaw still slightly dropped due to his reaction of the great view he had just had. Kurt simply turned around and continued to dry himself.

"You know it honey."

Blaine was silenced by Kurt's cheeky words and sudden exposition, both of which were a turn in a new, unexplored direction for his boyfriend. They shared a long, comfortable silence, as Blaine rested his head on the fluffy pillows and Kurt got dressed – nothing too fancy, considering it his impeccable, expensive fashion sense, just a pair of Topman skinny jeans which hugged his ass perfectly and a long-sleeved purple crewneck manufactured by Banana Republic. Once Kurt had finished with this he went on to his intricate morning moisturising regime, making sure to rub the product deep into the crevices of his nose and chin. He frowned slightly whenever he passed over an invisible bump or gap in his skin. While he had a fantastic complexion which was visually much, much more pleasing than any other guy of his age – gay or straight – he realised that it is near-impossible to have such a perfect skin complexion without the use of expensive, perhaps hazardous chemicals or even photoshop. Once he was finished with his moning routine, he got up and turned to his boyfriend who was still half-asleep but watching Kurt ever so intently.

"How do I look?" Kurt grinned – while he was definitely modest about the way he looked, he was still proud to see his boyfriend gain so much pleasure from his appearance.

"Hideous. You're simply unbearable to look at." Blaine stated in a sarcastic tone before erupting in a huge, cheeky grin, which was met by a roll of Kurt's eyes and small smile which seemed to recognise – and love – Blaine's cheeky, playful behaviour. He then began to walk over to his boyfriend, seemingly intently.

"Well, if I'm so hideous, Mr. Anderson…" Kurt grinned, "Then you obviously couldn't bare to have any more sex with me. At all." Blaine then looked at him, his huge grin suddenly becoming a faux-hurt frown.

"Come on, I didn't say you were THAT hideous…" Blaine smiled, before kissing Kurt abruptly on the lips. Kurt just giggled a little bit, before sighing.

"Fiiine," Kurt replied, "You've got me. Come on, let's go upstairs and have some breakfast."

"I thought you wouldn't ask!" Blained erupted in a large grin, before rolling out of bed and hopping over to the shower.

"I'll see you upstairs, don't take too long honey!" Kurt said loudly as he walked up the stairs to his bedroom door. He opened it with a slight click, and was greeted by the sight of Carol walking down the hall with a large tray, seemingly towards his door.

"Oh, hey hun!" Carol spoke, in her usual soft, feminine, well spoke manner. "I made you and Blaine some breakfast, so I was just bringing it to you some breakfast in bed!" She grinned to Kurt, nodding towards the large plates of cooked breakfast – Kurt's cream white plate adorned with trimmed bacon, poached eggs, wheat toast and low-sodium baked beans. This rather large breakfast looked tiny, however, compared to the second white plate on the tray, which was covered in bacon, sausages, fried eggs, hashed brown… Carole had really gone all out on his and Blaines'' food, which really touched him. His eyes glazed over slightly as he gawped happily at Carole, stuttering for words.

"Oh, Carole, I really don't know what to say… thank you," he stuttered in an equally soft, feminine and well-spoken manner. Carole just laughed a bit at her stepson's overly gracious actions, and smiled vibrantly at him.

"Oh, you know it's no problem, it's not the first time I've made you breakfast! Are you coming into the lounge to eat though? The tray's kinda' heavy and I'd like to put it down…" Kurt suddenly snapped his head up and realised that she was having a little bit of trouble carrying the heavy tray for such a long time.

"Oh, I'm sorry, of course! Yes, we're eating in the lounge, let me get it for you-"Kurt then walked over to Carole and took the tray from her slowly, rebutting her repeated attempts of a protest. She just smiled at him as they walked to the lounge together, having a girl catchup talk – Blaine and Kurt had only arrived very late last night as their plane from JFK to Port Columbus was delayed, which combined with a two-hour drive to Lima from the airport meant that they only briefly had a chance to talk to Burt and Carole before going to bed to sleep. When they got into the lounge, a shirtless, half-asleep Finn was eating a bowl of cereal while watching the local news. Finn looked up to Kurt and smiled.

"Oh, hey bro!" Finn said tiredly with a spoonful of Lucky Charms crunching in his mouth, "Sorry we didn't catch you last night, I got here after you and you were asleep so…" Kurt placed the tray he was carrying on the table and cut him off with some pretty erratic hand movements.

"Oh don't worry that's all well and good, but there's a problem here." Kurt looked at his brother confusingly, leading to his brother giving him a worried look.

"What is it? Want me to put a shirt on?"

Kurt stared back on him with genuine disgust and fear etched into the pores and wrinkles of his face. His arm rose slowly and dramatically to point at Finns head, which Kurt continued to stare at as if it was the worst spectacle he had ever seen.

"Your… your _hair,_" Kurt stuttered quietly, his voice higher pitched than usual. "Where- where's your hair gone?" Kurt stared at Finn's completely bald head, and at that moment wished that he could grab a wig, or a cap, or even a snapback (which he repeatedly suggested had _raped_ fashion and glorified thugs) and slam it on top of his glistening dome. Finn began to laugh loudly at Kurt's genuine worry, before shrugging it off.

"I thought something was actually bad! Nah, bro, it's the army look, they had me razor off all my hair as soon as I stepped into Fort Benning." To Kurt's horror, Finn then stroked his hand over his head smiling. "Mom says I look more like dad now, isn't that cool? And Puck said-"

"Oh god, I think I'm going to fall over." Kurt stated abruptly, actually looking rather faint. He grabbed onto the arm of the couch and lowered himself to sit down.

"Just, give me a minute; I _really_ need to get over this." Kurt said, reluctantly smiling over to Finn, who replied with a grin and a simple "Whatever, bro…" before going back to eating his cereals. Kurt tried to take his mind off Finns suddenly bald head, and looked over to watch the TV, an activity that he ever so rarely partook in since he went to New York with Blaine.

_"-have been repeated lightning strikes reported in South Korea, Ukraine, Cuba, Britain, France and Australia. It has been claimed, but not confirmed that EMP-like effects are being experienced around the radius of the strikes in Ukraine, however no such reports have come out of any of the other effected countries. An EMP, or Electro Magnetic Pulse, causes a temporary interruption with all electrical current within its field. There have been scattered reports that following the lightning strikes seismic activity occurred at the same level as that of an earthquake, measuring at 4.5 on-"_

Kurt's surprising intrigue in the news report was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Blaine, wearing a Ben Sherman stripped Polo and some slim-fit Levi Strauss jeans. Surprisingly, he had no gel in his hair, apparently happy with having an 'au naturale' look, for the morning at least. He pulled Kurt up to his feet for a quick peck on the lips, who returned his affection with a smile.

"Morning, baby," Blaine smiled back, before eyeing up the breakfast that was set out on the table. "You made me breakfast? Oh, Kurt… you shouldn't have!" Kurt smiled to him, before pulling back and sitting back down on the couch.

"Actually, that's Carole's fantastic cooking. That woman…"

"Yep, she's amazing."

Finn looked up from his cereal, a bit surprised that Blaine still hadn't noticed him sat next to Kurt. He finished his last spoonful of cereal, hesitated a bit, and then put on a large grin.

"Hey, Blaine!" Blaine looked up to him and smiled, an apologetic look suddenly appearing on his face.

"Oh, hi Finn! Sorry, I didn't notice you, you're kind of tucked away in the corner-"

He suddenly stopped, his mouth dropping as much as it had at the sight of Kurt's naked body. Kurt had to slap his hand over his mouth and muffle a laugh that he was sure threatened to completely ruin the atmosphere - Finn just stared back at him, a legitimately clueless look painted on his face, as if Kurt hadn't previously looked just as shocked at Finn only five minutes ago. Blaine stuttered a few incomprehensible words before suddenly blurting out, with a shocked, almost distressed tone:

"Oh my god, Finn. Your _hair_."


	3. Lightning Never Strikes The Same Place

**Chapter Two  
****Lightning Never Strikes the Same Place Twice**

"Come on bro, it ain't that bad!" Finn looked at Blaine confusedly – while he wasn't exactly the most knowledgeable on hairstyles and trends, he didn't see the problem with being bald. However, his disgruntled words were only met with more of a confused glare – and more stifled laughs being muffled by Kurts hand. Finally, after a few seconds of staring, confused looks and muffled laughter, Kurt brought his hand away from his mouth dramatically and looked to his boyfriend.

"Yeah, come on Blaine! Sure, I was surprised at first, but you know… I sorta like it now." Kurt was sure that Blaine knew he was lying but after Finn's breakup with Rachel he didn't want his already pretty low self-confidence being diminished any further. He gave Blaine a sort of begging look, and Blaine snapped out of his stare into a huge grin.

"You know what Kurt? You're right, and Finn, the new style looks great," Blaine continued on, being fairly reassuring to Finn who was completely convinced that his brother's boyfriend had suddenly turned a new leaf.

"Infact…" Blaine stepped over to Kurt, and offered him a hand, being met with a confused look. Blaine gave him a reassuring look, who then smiled and grabbed his hand enthusiastically. Their fingers entwined as they grinned at eachother, Blaine using all of his effort to drag his boyfriend to his feet. They both span on their heels and turned to Finn, who was still looking whole-heartedly confused at the whole romantic spectacle that was going on infront of him. Blaine looked at Kurt, being absorbed in his luscious, blue eyes that sat so perfectly on his face, like pools of water situated in a hot spring. Indeed, a very _hot_ spring. He then turned back to look at Finn, his smile more vibrant and obvious than before.

"This reminds me a lot of a song Kurt used to sing to me, about my bad hair days," he smiled, as Kurt gave him a knowing grin.

"And I think," He then turned back to Kurt, gripping his hand tighter and smiling, his eyes sparking, "If Kurt would allow me – us, actually – I would like it if we could sing that song to you now."

Finn smiled back at them both, a rare look of affection being emitted from his pores – this was very unlike Finn, to be so emotional like this.

"Thanks guys… that would mean a lot."

Finn sat back and relaxed on the couch as the two boys stood up infront fo him, their hands losing grip of eachother – their fingers slowly untangling from their native grip. Blaine walked over to his iPod – which was connected to a docking station, rather amusingly designed to look like a pink dog with the speaker in its nose – and flicked through the songs until he found his choice. As he pressed play, he span on his heels and smiled at his boyfriend, who returned his look with an incredibly cute grin. Kurt began with the main vocals, with Blaine supporting him – this being quite rare, just going to show the versatility they shared in their romance, even spreading to their musical numbers.

_Ooo-ooo-ooo-oooh… Oh…  
Ooo-ooo-ooo-oooh… Oh!_

Whenever I'm dressed cool my parents put up a fight,  
And if I'm hot shot, my mom will cut my hair at night-  
In the mornin' I'm short of my indentity…  
I scream, "Mom and Dad, why can't I be who I wanna be, wanna be?"

Finn leaned forwards, putting his elbows on his knees – he was clearly interested and enjoying it, which was surprising, considering it was a Gaga song, whom he had previously shown some distaste towards, especially in Glee club. Blaine and Kurt danced together around the room, Kurt sometimes running his hands through Blaine's au-naturale hair, as if to show Finn that not everybody has the best hair in the world. With this, Blaine took over with lead vocals.

_I just wanna be myself and I want you to love-  
Me for who I am…  
I just wanna be myself and I want you know-  
That I am my hair!_

I've had enough, this is my prayer!  
That I'll die livin' just as free as my hair!  
I've had enough, this is my prayer!  
That I'll die livin' just as free as my hair!

The boys' vocals and harmonies danced together as perfectly as they themselves danced together around the lounge, sometimes being butt-in by laughter and squeals of joy from either of them. All the while, Finn listened and watched intently with a grin on his face, sometimes stopping to laugh a bit at his brother and Blaine's antics – all the while, all three of them were completely oblivious to the images on the screen behind them, of blue lightning bolts striking… again, and again. The image on the screen cut from place-to-place; it seemed to be happening everywhere in the globe! Lightning was striking near Big Ben, decimating the houses of parliament, the Capitol building was being slashed repeatedly, almost like meat being prepared for sale by a butcher. The most shocking image was that of the Golden Gate Bridge – or what was left of it, at least. The fluorescent blue bolts had ripped through the cords and pylons that kept the bridge together, causing the vehicles and heavy metal components of the bridge to tumble into the water hundreds of feet below.

Yet, the boys continued surreally, oblivious to what was happening on the screen behind them. It seemed totally incredible that they were spending their Saturday morning as if it were any other, as if the only oddity of the day's events was Finn's hair – or lack there-of.

_Free as my hair-air-air-air-air,  
Free as my hair-air-air-air-air…_

Suddenly, the boys' euphoric singing – and mood to go with it – was cut short by a loud crashing noise outside of the house, not too dissimilar to the sound of a bullwhip being flicked and licking the ground. They all froze on the spot, Finn suddenly jolting up and looking out of the window, his face turning from that of happiness to one more akin to fright or paranoia.

"What the hell was that, dude?"

Blaine held Kurts hand tightly, and ran over to the window with him. They stood next to Finn and stared out, trying to get an idea of what was causing such loud noises outside. Again, there was a crash – but this time, it was followed by another, and another, as if there was a percussion band marching its way through Lima. They looked out to the road and saw people staring at the sky, causing their eyebrows to raise in an almost canon synchronicity. They all wanted to speak, but they were too in awe of the sudden change of events – it was clear that Finn's hair wasn't the most important topic anymore, and the crashes carried with them a sense of fear that could be felt clinging to the very woven fibres and sinew of their clothing, gripping at them as if it was a new-born baby desperate for the attention of its mother. Finn was the first to be shaken out of his trance like state, and regain the ability to move his jaw. Slowly, he began to utter hard, yet quiet words – yet all he could get out was a simple repeat. He had been reduced to a broken record.

"What the hell was _that_?"

When the two other boys didn't answer, Finn tutted a bit – and, without thinking, he was moving towards the front door. He pulled it open and ran out into the road, to stare into the sky, to see for himself the very spectacle that the rest of Lima seemed to be swallowed into. He looked up, and was met with the most frightening and yet, peculiarly stunning sight he had ever seen in his life. It was almost as if the very fabric of the sky had been roughly torn apart, leaving only a hazy black-grey gap which was frequently lit up by jagged bolts of neon blue electricity, striking down into the town below. The strikes were becoming so frequent, infact, that it almost seemed as if a tower had been erected – a fluorescent blue, misconstrued and abstract tower which seemed more at home in one of New York or London's many galleries but a tower none the less.

The grey pustules that seemed to swirl within the black void of the sky – almost clouds, if you will – reminded Finn much of an off-colour topping of a half-drunken cappuccino from the Lima Bean, in a funny sort of way. It was totally astounding, he thought, that during such a time of impending crisis that he was making comparison between an almost literal beast in the sky and something so simple as a product from a small café that served such a small mid-western town. Did the town really mean that much to him? Before he could ponder for much longer, his train of thought was interrupted by the front door opening with a much quieter click. He looked up, expecting to see Blaine, or even perhaps Kurt, but he was greeted by the sight of his mom, Carol. She looked at him, utterly bewildered by the whole events, apparently being interrupted during her own morning ritual by the loud banging. She ran out to him, and clutched onto his hand as if it was her lifeline. Finn looked back up to the spectacle above them, while his mom stared at him, grilling him with questions that he was almost unable to respond to.

"What's going on Finn? Where're the noises coming from? What about lightning on the news?"

Rather than uttering a barely audible response, he gently – well, as gently as possible considering the task – grabbed onto his mother's jawline and slowly turned her head to face the sky. She starred up, her jaw dropping at the sight of the swirling, flashing hole in the heavens. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, a sign that she too had realised the full extremity of the mornings events; she had assumed, for a while, that the loud noises were simply road works on the streets outside. She hadn't anticipated such things like _this_. She too was caught in a trance, and while she could speak – utter a reassuring sentence to her son, that it would be okay – she was able to grab his hand even more tightly.

"The lightning stopped, mom," Carol looked to her son, a bit of bewilderment on her face, "The lightning, it stopped about half a minute ago."

She then realised that they had been staring at the twisting anomaly, which looked ever so much less amazing and abstract without the constant interrupting flashes of blue electricity. She smiled at her son – a fake smile, an attempt to cover her worry and anxiety – and suggested they go back inside. When they reached the front door, they were met with the sight of Blaine and Kurt cuddling on the couch. Blaine was stroking Kurt's hair slowly, uttering words of guidance and support slowly in through his ear. Kurt had his nose nuzzled into Blaine's chest – apparently, he was quite upset. Carol looked at Blaine, her eyes longing for an explanation.

"The lightning," Blaine said, as he indicated towards the TV, "it hit over thirty-seven times in the same place, Mrs. Hum- Carol." Apparently in his shocked state he had regressed slightly in his usual manner in which he acted around Kurt's stepmom.

"It… it hit McKinley thirty-six times."


	4. McKinley High and the Heat Ray

**Chapter Three  
****McKinley High and the Heat Ray**

Blaine found himself walking down the road at a brisk pace, obviously intent on getting to his desired location as quickly as possible. He completely disregarded the usual norm of keeping on the sidewalk – it seems that the thunderstorm had brought with it some kind of electronic field, which had caused all of the cars within the radius of the storm to be completely stuck. Blaine was bemused at the actions of the people who had previously been driving; some almost looked scared of leaving the confines of their assumedly cool vehicle interiors. However, some shared the same child-like inhibition as Blaine, and soon there was a small, scattered, diverse group that shared a silent acknowledgement of their goal. It was almost like a hastily created hive-mind; however, with this dysfunction hive of sorts, there was no queen bee, all of the group relying on each other to get to their shared desired location. Indeed, it was a very quiet journey for Blaine, an eerie silence that was only broken by the occasional wine and holler of a dog, or the loud cries of a baby which would cling to the airwaves and find themselves being forced into his eardrums.

About half-way to McKinley – and the site of the repeated lightning strikes – he found himself outside of Burt's garage. He slowed down slightly and turned from the hastily created hive-mind, who then seemed to disperse further, almost as if Blaine had become the missing link in an intricate yet child-minded electrical circuit. He started to make his way towards the garage; in front of the shop, working on a rather large Ford SUV was Burt, the older man looking fairly bewildered as he shone a torch under the propped up hood into the engine. A Small amount of smoke was being emitted from the battery, which had apparently been hit the freak lightning and had become smouldering to the touch. Blaine walked up to his father-figure and clapped his own hand on Burt's shoulder.

"Hello, sir… dad!" Blaine spoke, still getting used to the concept of calling Burt 'dad', even after agreeing with Kurt that it was for the best over a year ago. Burt, however, thought nothing of it – if anything, he was touched that his son's boyfriend thought of him as a father – and turned to him, with a confused look still on his face.

"Hey, kiddo – would'ya look at this?" Burt signalled towards the engine, which Blaine stepped towards to look into. The electrical wires which connected to the battery, and the battery itself, had been reduced to a smouldering 'goop' which seemed to be a mixture of melted copper wiring and plastic components. Blaine studied the sight for a while, before asking questions.

"Was it hit by the lightning? I mean, directly?" Burt only responded with a shake of his head, then seemingly spreading his confused look over to Blaine, who was now holding such a grimace on his face. He pulled his head out of the engine, realising that he needed to get to the school to see what had happened – and that the smell of melted plastic had begun to make him feel light headed, and was still holding onto his nostril hairs for dear life.

"Sorry dad, but I've really got to run – try changing the solenoid?- And the wiring of course." Blaine smiled at Burt, as the mens shared confused looks began to fade from their faces. Burt grinned, slamming his fist into his palm with glee.

"Of course, the solenoid! Why didn't I think of that? Blaine, buddy, you're a life saver!" Burt pulled his sons boyfriend into a strong, masculine hug, which Blaine accepted gladly. He then pulled away and sifted through his tools quickly.

"I'm gonna get this fixed up and then head home. Doesn't look like many clients are gonna make it today, now that everybody's stuck on the road." Burt then smiled to Blaine, who returned the smile before beginning to walk to the door.

"Okay, dad, I'll see you there."

Blaine again found himself on the streets of Lima, heading directly for McKinley High – his original objective. In the short period that he had been gone, the block had seemed to fall into a sort of subtle chaos – couples were arguing over the insurance costs on their cars, important looking middle-aged men in pristine suits were grumbling to eachother about how they would now miss their 8:10 to JFK, which would most certainly mean that their oh so promised raise would vanish. He even saw one woman trying to push her Corvette down the road, presumably to her house – of course, as expected, the car didn't move by even an inch. As he came closer to the school, the concentration of people on the road and sidewalk seemed to double with ever meter – until they were literally shoulder to shoulder, being pushed back by oversized police officers who had formed a makeshift line, ten meters across, surrounding a smouldering pile of rubble that had presumably been the entrance for the lightning bolts into the cold road. One police officer was sifting his hand through the rubble, and had grabbed one apple-sized chunk before dropping it quickly; an expletive was loudly emitted from his lips, before he said something about it being 'freezing cold'. Suddenly, the ground began to quake and shake violently, cracks beginning to form in the tightly woven tarmac beneath their feet.

The hairline cracks in the ground seemed to carry on for hundreds of meters, weaving in and out between the panicked populaces' legs and feet. The circle of officers had quickly dispersed, their main goal now being to attempt to move everybody else away from the cracked ground. Suddenly, one of the rips found itself shooting up the foundation and brickwork of McKinley High, glass shattering and falling like tiny raindrops glistening in the summer heat. The water pipe that climbed up the side of the school and maintained a line into the sewers below snapped off, swinging down and covering the lawn with a watery-brown mixture. The hive-mind seemed to have returned; Blaine found himself running away from the cracks, along with every other person in the area before. The front row seemed to dictate how far they would move before stopping – they had begun to hide themselves behind rows of cars and walls, inciting the rest of the group, including Blaine, to do the same. They waited, in an eerie silence which was only broken by the occasional birdsong or loud, distant car horn, for what was to come. For what they assumed, was to come. And then, as if it were choreographed – 'it' came.

The ground, using the cracks as a guideline, began to swallow itself inwards at an alarming rate – everything within tens of meters of the lightning strikes began to roll into the makeshift funnel that was now being created by the quakes. People winced – some running for their lives – as expensive cars, lesser expensive road signs and even bolted-down necessities such as fire hydrants were sucked into the ever expanding black hole which was forming on the front lawn of McKinley. The large flag pole – which, in ever such a cliché manner, carried a large United States flag which blew freely in the wind – which had made its home on this such lawn began to be swallowed hole, the pole effectively being halved in size, and the flag drooping slowly as the windy conditions began to die down.

Then, as if the ground was a resuscitated heart-beat, the ground began to raise up, causing some of the people to scream in terror. Blaine, however, simply watched in a mix of shock and fascination as the meticulously laid road-works were reduced to broken rubble by a supposed freak lightning storm. With the raising of the ground, dirt and debris was pushed into the front entrance of McKinley, the brickwork being crushed and enveloped in a mashup of cars, earth and tarmac. Glass shattered and cement was crushed, adding further to ever expanding mixture that was effectively destroying the school. Suddenly, the entirety of the front wall was split In two by a speedily traveling crack, which was followed abruptly by its collapse. Blaine watched in shock as his previous school was reduced to nothing in a matter of seconds.

As clouds of dust began to circle the open wound, visibility past the rows of curious humans was left to absolutely nothing – so nobody could see the towering machine that had begun to claw its way out of the hole. That was until the dust began to settle – the smoke, if you will, began to clear – and people watched in awe and bemusement as a three-legged fighting machine, with a head somewhat shaped like a sharp pear, starred right back at them. The tripod began to raise itself further into the air, it's three lights on the front of its intricate face serving as intimidating, shocking windows into the unearthly creation. Blaine felt his heart drop, and swallowed a small ball of saliva that had formed in his mouth. Seconds later, the machine seemed to be at its full height, and as if it didn't already tower over the landscape that surrounded it – it was now a good six storeys higher than the high school that had previously sat in its place. People watched the machine with curious eyes – while a few others, a surprising minority, knew that the sensible idea was to run away while they still had a fantastic chance. Some people, however, did not believe it was a machine of war – if it was a machine of war, where were it's weapons?

This question I'm sure left anybody's mind when the tripod let out the most deafening, un-tamed roar, like a caged yet wild beast that was being released after years of torment. The sound startled the majority of people that stared at the machne in bemusement, some staggering and falling – while others did not move even slightly, possibly not wanting to show weakness to such an alien intruder. Blaine watched intently as two, long, grey arms with protruding fork-like hands began to fold out of their previously occupied space, and began to aim towards the ground infront – towards the masses of people. At this moment, he could feel the beads of panic rolling down his skin, his hands becoming clammy with fear. It was then, fearing the worst, that he decided to join the minority who had previously ran away, his mind racing with thoughts as to why the rest of the populace weren't doing the same thing. Suddenly, as he came close to the junction – and right turning that he needed to follow to get back to Kurt's – a mass scream filled the air, coupled by the electronic sounds that you would expect to hear If you contacted a battery-powered fly swatter. He turned his head as he ran, and saw that the standing group had begun to move. This was no organised march – it was a stampede, the fall of mankind.

As he watched them move, he also saw the streaks of white light that shot down and licked at the ground in an instant. He took note of the heat vapours that seemed to come off the ground – or indeed anything that seemed to get into its path. It was then, to his horror, that he saw the devastating 'heat ray' meet its first victim – or, rather, first victim that he had witnessed. The beam shot through her like a powerful torch through paper, before her body was reduced to floating ash seconds later. He felt vomit begin to tickle at the back of his throat, his mind being absent of anything apart from the floating ashes and clothes that seemed to be carried in the breeze, as light as a feather. He turned his head to face his path, whipping to the right at the very first moment, and enjoyed a momentary piece of safety. His only reminder now of the disaster he had just witnessed, was the electronic zapping noise which coupled with the heat-ray repeatedly ringing out from behind him as he ran on the deserted second road, with each 'zap' – he assumed – signalling the demise of yet another person he had been standing next to moments before.


	5. The Decimation of Lima, Ohio

**Chapter Four  
****The Decimation of Lima, Ohio**

The journey back to the block on which Kurt's home resided carried an eerie silence, thought Blaine. Although in the close-distance he could hear the ghostly sigh of the heat-ray and the terrorised screams that followed, there was an otherwise vacant solitude on the roads and sidewalks. He passed some people on the way – all seemingly going in the same direction, paying no attention to Blaine as they ran. They were scattered, red-eyed and scared. They all carried the same mindset – they had been the clever ones, they had survived due to the inhibition that the others had not also claimed; yet it did not seem to make the blood stained images that kept flashing in his mind. Blaine saw the tripod shrieking at the people below, then erupting in its deadly heat-ray that seemed to cut through buildings, vehicles and people alike as if they were all thin sheets of paper. He remembered one such victim of this devastation weapon quite distinctively – an older woman, perhaps in her seventies. Her face was littered in the wrinkles to be expected of a woman who had seen so much drama and destruction throughout her entire life. Her clothing was not expensive – a dull grey cardigan over the top of a white button-down, supported by a cashmere skirt that seemed to hug at her waist and hips with tightness that was surprising for a lady of her age.

Yet, suddenly, as Blaine watched her run with panic and fear in her eyes, the tightness of the waistband was relieved; the many wrinkles on her face disappeared, as if they were never there. Her mouth opened widely, her lips curled upwards as Blaine watched pain shoot through her body, her eyes unable to water due to the intense heat evaporating any fluids that were within its radius. Then, she was gone. With a puff of ash and clothing, she was scattered into the air, as if her remains had been scattered from an urn. Blaine watched as she floated in the air quite eloquently, and then falling on the panicked people that had previously ran with her, within feet of her person. It was at this thought that Blaine realised – he was covered in this woman's remains.

As he stepped through the front door to the Hummel household, he seemed to walk through a bubble that acted as a sound barrier – suddenly, the distant screams, hisses of powerful heat and drumming of scattered destruction became muffled memories that had already begun to fade. He walked into the lounge, being met with almost the same confused and surprised stares as that he had received from Finn when he woke up only an hour ago. His face was blank – almost as if his proverbial slate had been wiped clean, and was now completely devoid of any emotional. It was a blank, steady stare, which he carried as he walked to the couch next to Kurt and sat down. Kurt scooted away from him slightly, trying to avoid the ashes that covered each and every hair on his boyfriends head, and every fibre on his clothing.

"Blaine…" Kurt uttered quietly, his eyes still puffy from his earlier sobs.

Blaine turned his head slowly, still devoid from emotion. His mouth was jarred open – his words were trapped. He didn't know what to say - what could he say? He wasn't even sure what had just happened, after all! Kurt could see the obvious discomfort in his boyfriend's eyes, and moved on to ask his first question.

"What's that all over your hair… and clothes?"

Blaine looked up to his boyfriend, carrying a now much more solemn look, as if he had just realised something horrific. He looked down at his clothes, and looked back to his boyfriend, before rushing past the other people within the room to the downstairs bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror which was hung over the basin; his face was chalk-white, half of which he was sure was caused by the emotional strain he had just experienced. He ran a finger over his nose, horrified by the amount of silky powder that fell from his skin in small, ball-like clumps. He then, in a blur of shock and disgust, ran his hands through his hair with unchained ferocity, quickly running the hot water, creating a deep pool in the basin. He splashed his face and watched as the people's remains rose to the surface of the water, the rest floating to the floor in powdered clouds. He starred in the now cloudy water, and could swear that older woman's crease ridden face was starring right back at him, carrying the same fear and anticipation in her eyes that she had as she was turned into a puff of white smoke.

After washing his hands meticulously, he walked out into the lounge, with his adrenaline now kicking in. He looked around the room, before shaking his head a bit, as if he was trying to wake himself up from a tired gaze.

"We… we've got to leave."

Finn looked at him confused, completely oblivious to the events that had just happened.

"Look, bro, whatever happened, I'm sure we're fine here, it's just ligh-" Blaine cut him off, having turned to Burt, who appeared in the door behind him.

"Get all of your food, some water, put it all together and get it into the car, we've got to leave."

Burt had the same confused look as Finn, his eyebrow rising at the sudden assertiveness of his son's boyfriend.

"Blaine, what's goin' on? What's with the ord-" Blaine simply walked away towards the kitchen, speaking loudly.

"Please, Burt, Kurt, Finn, Carole, just get ready, we need to leave, _now_."

Burt looked over at Kurt, with a puzzled look still etched into his face. Kurt simply stared back at his father, who seemed to be begging silently for an explanation. Kurt realised this and spoke quite quickly.

"Maybe… we should do what he's asking." Kurt reasoned with his father, whose eyebrow began to drop. "This is completely unlike Blaine; I don't know what could have set him off like this."

Kurt then slapped his hands against his thighs assertively, before stepping up to help Blaine in the kitchen. When he got into the room, he found the cupboards empty – Blaine was loading every molecule and crumb into big cardboard boxes, sparking a slight unease in the back of his mind. Blaine was at the fridge, the door having been opened with such ferocity that it was almost hanging off its hinges. Blaine was chucking unnecessary condiments and sauces on the floor in favour of packed meats and cheese, which were happily thrown into a box sat next to him. Kurt looked at his boyfriends actions, which seemed to go by within a blur – his movements articulated, choreographed, almost like one of their many Glee club rehearsals. Blaine stood up and turned to Kurt; his face had apparently returned to its blank, trance-like state.

"We need to get to the car." Blaine brushed past his boyfriend into the lounge, where Finn was tying his shoelaces and Carole was putting her light-grey peacoat on. She was almost about to wrap an intricate, long scarf around her neck when Blaine spoke.

"No time – get in the car." Carole looked at him, shocked; this was completely uncharacteristic. He simply returned with the ever blank state, convincing her that moving towards the car was probably the best move. She ushered Finn out the door, followed by Blaine and Kurt who were carrying a box of food each. They packed the boxes in the back of the car; onlookers stared in confusion, believing that like their own vehicles, the Ford that the Hummel family were about to get into was an inoperable coffin. Blaine strapped himself into the front seat passenger seat, with Kurt, Finn and Carole packed together tightly in one of the back two rows of the minivan that Burt had been working on. Blaine looked up he shut the passenger-side door, seeing Burt come out of the door and jog slowly towards the driver's seat door. As he slammed the door tightly and pushed his seat belt buckle into the open mouth of the latch, he turned his head to Blaine.

"Look, kid, I trust you and all, but are you sure this ain't too much for a storm?"

Blaine turned his head and looked back to Burt, a bit of emotion now returning to his face. He frowned at the older man – not an angry stare, but more of a look of frustration that nobody had seemed to understand his absolute urgency.

"Jus- just start the car sir, I'll explain on the way."

Burt sighed a bit, hoping for more of an explanation, before pushing the keys into the car ignition.

"Alright…" He uttered as he pushed his foot on the ignition pedal, the engine roaring to start. Blaine had noticed that the distant screams and hiss of the alien weaponry had stopped as quickly as they had begun, the only remnant of the attack he had witnessed being people staggering through the streets, tears streaking from their eyes, and moans of pain being emitted from their open mouths. The car began to reverse out onto the road quickly, then coming to a stop while they waited for people to move from the road; they looked on at the car in awe, as if they had never seen such an automobile in their life. Slowly, Blaine squinted at one particular blonde girl, whose head was slightly turned away from him. Suddenly, realisation hit him; it was Brittany. He realised that they only had a small amount of time before the wave of destruction would hit their street, and so – pushed by Kurt's questioning remark of "isn't that Brit?" – he rolled down his window and poked his head out.

"Brit!" he called out, enticing her to turn her head. She was only meters away, and ran up to the car. It was with this motion that Blaine realised she was clinging onto a black bundle in her arms – a black bundle that seemed to be moving. He sighed with irritated annoyance when he realised that she was carrying her cat, Mr Tubsworth the Third.

"Hey Blaine!" she called out in his face with happiness, apparently completely unaware of the chaos that completely enveloped the streets. She then poked her head into the car and smiled at the passengers.

"Hey Kurt!" she then turned her head to Finn, before erupting in a huge grin.

"Oh my god, It's Michael Clarke Duncan! I thought you died, Mr Clarke? Have you got Mr Jingles with you, maybe him and Mr Tubsworth can be friends!" her glowing happiness then turned to a look of confusion, almost a blank stare – a look that was all too common on their friends face.

"Wait, aren't you meant to be black? Did you have the same plastic surgeon as Michael Jackson?"

Normally, Blaine would have laughed at her apparent blank mind set, but in the current climate it was only helping to add to his irritation and stress. He looked at Brittany before ushering her to the back door.

"Brit, get in the car." Blaine returned his assertive words with a look of confusion.

"But all of these people are walking, and me and Mr Tubsworth wanted to join in, and-"

"Brit, get in the car, now."

"But don't you get it? This might be an important march, like that one time with Martin Luther King and when he walked for gay rights-"

"Brit, get in the car, or you're going to _die_!"

By the look on her face, Blaine had realised his words had upset her, which although would probably result in a few tears – and some glares from the rest of the group in the car – he hoped would push even her narrow mind to get in the vehicle. As planned, she shuffled over to the back seat and sat in the back row with Mr Tubsworth; the latter of which stretched out on the seat, apparently glad to be out of the uncomfortable position he was reduced to in Brittany's arms. She shut the door and strapped herself – and Mr Tubsworth – in, apparently struggling with the seatbelt for longer than anybody else.

Not a moment too soon, the all too common hiss of the devastating heat-ray filled the air, causing the people in the vehicle to jolt their heads back and look out the window. What they then witnessed could not be reimagined – the white, glistening beam shot down on their house, causing it to split and ignite as if it was a simple bonfire. People on the streets began to ran, the mass screaming and shouting then returning to the airwaves as if it was all too missed. Burt slammed his foot on the gas pedal, reversing backwards and then speeding off down the road. Behind them, seen in the rear view mirror, they watched as the white-hot beam exploded over the many houses that had lined up across their street – splintered wood and cement exploded with each touch, quickly being engulfed by flame with each lick of the desolating heat-ray. People scattered, and ran; some did not make even a step before they were ripped away by the pillar of flame, leaving only a puff of ashes and clothing which floated in the air like thin feathers. Trees and bushes exploded with flame at the slightest touch of this savage, unearthly heat-ray. This was no organised march, thought Blaine, as they sped away from the scene of devastation – this was a stampede of wild beasts, the rut of mankind.

It dawned on him that the legions of people running from the invaders were being toyed with – it was simple luck as to who died, almost like a desolate, evil lottery. The entire town, in fact, was now a play thing for the beings that had struck the earth with such natural ability. They were now baring witness to the punishment of the town, to the decimation of Lima, Ohio.

-

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